


Cooking Lesson

by Iocane



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bottom Hank, Connor gets high, Connor has a dick, Cooking, Discussion of Open Relationship, Drugged Sex, Hair Pulling, M/M, Overstimulation, and boy does he use it, connor in a mesh shirt, connor with eyeliner, discussion of wireplay, hank and north getting along, multiple male orgasm, no impaired jugement, not really but it comes off that way so I'm tagging it, semi non verbal connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 22:18:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17068196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iocane/pseuds/Iocane
Summary: While Connor goes out dancing, Hank agrees to give North some cooking lessons, so she can cook for her new human girlfriend.When Connor comes home, Hank gets his reward.





	Cooking Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> I ship North/Chloe like hella, but I needed her to have a human sweetheart for this to work, and I didn't want to break them up for it, so in this world they were never together.
> 
> Many thanks to [Cylin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cylin/pseuds/Cylin) for their excellent beta!! <3

"Connor, why me?" Hank asked, not for the first time. He was leaning against his bedroom doorway, watching Connor dress.

"Because you're about the only human she knows." Connor tugged off his third attempt at a shirt.

"Not true!" Hank crossed his arms. "From what you said, the whole  _ point _ of this is because there's another human she's met."

"Yes." Connor's hips swayed as he approached, still shirtless. "And do you remember my cooking when I first moved in?" He leaned into Hank's space, lips close enough to touch but he didn't.

"Mmm." Hank bridged the gap, lips brushing against Connor's. "Okay. Yeah, point made. But why  **me** ? You guys know plenty of humans now."

"Yes, but among the people North counts as friends, whose opinion on humans she actually trusts, we only have close connections to two of you. And Alice is a ten year old girl."

"Okay. Okay, I give up. You want me to teach North to cook, I'll teach North to cook. Does she have that upgrade?"

Connor batted his eyelashes. "You mean my very own, hard earned, personally calibrated,  _ hand _ coded flavor integration protocols?"

Hank smirked at Connor's smug tone, reaching down to pinch his side gently, then pulled him close, hand resting at the small of his back. "Yeah, all that shit."

They kissed for several moments before Connor answered. "Yes. There's a copy for her taped to the fridge." He smiled before wiggling away from Hank. "Now get out, I can't dress with you ogling me."

"Not my fault they built my boyfriend extra pretty."

Connor lifted his arms over his head and gave a little shimmy. It had Hank reconsidering this whole cooking lesson / doing dancing plan they had. He could just keep Connor in bed all damn night.

Hank gave one more lingering glance before making his way to the kitchen. As he poked through the fridge, he felt a surge of warmth at how well stocked Connor kept it. He also got down his grandmother's box of recipes, wondering what a good first lesson was. She wasn't a kid so even off the bat she could deal with more complex dishes, he was sure. Then again, she'd never so much as eaten, let alone cooked. Let her decide, then? Play it by ear.

He was giving his knives a quick sharpen when Connor emerged, looking like sex on a goddamned stick. Snug fitting black jeans were paired with a black mesh shirt, and over it a colorful silk shirt, left open. A choker highlighted his slender throat, and his fingers were tipped with matte black polish. His hair was in its usual thus far uneditable style, but he'd managed to work a few colored streaks into it for the occasion, and his eyes were darkly kohled. A glittery shimmer was also visible on his cheeks and forehead, through the mesh of his shirt and on his hands.

"You've got like, twenty of your own shirts, you gotta wear one of mine?" Hank said it with a grin.

"I like wearing your clothes and I refuse to apologize for it." Connor sashayed - there was no other word for it - into the room and twined both arms around Hank's neck, kissing him slowly.

Connor must have coordinated his departure, since when he opened the door and stepped aside far too fluidly for it to be a coincidence, North was on the other side. She was surprisingly laden with grocery bags, though seemed to have no problem carrying them. "Love you! Don't wait up!" Connor called as he left.

"Love you! You know I will!" Hank called back with a chuckle. 

"Where's he going?" North asked as she deposted her bags on the kitchen table, then stood with her arms crossed.

"Dancing with Markus and a few others." He eyed the bags curiously, wondering if she had anything in mind specifically to cook, and hoping he knew how to make it, if she did.

"You're not bothered?"

"Why would I be bothered? I used to party pretty hard myself. And at least he won't be crawling home drunk at all hours like I did." Well, not the same kind of drunk.

"Humans tend to be jealous."

"Some of us." Hank regarded her thoughtfully. "I love Connor, I love him to death, and I'm completely happy with what we've got. Part of loving him is wanting  _ him _ to be happy, too. If he wants to go out dancing and get his wires tweaked, that's between him and whoever's tweaking them. It's not something I can personally do." He shuddered.

"Don't like being reminded that he isn't human?" Her tone was as hostile as he'd ever heard.

Hank sighed. This was gonna be a fun goddamn evening and Connor owed him big time. "That isn't the problem. I actually like the reminders. He's got a lower core temperature. When he turns his skin off, the stuff under it feels amazing. No matter how much I mess with his hair, it's perfect two seconds later. Okay that's more of an annoyance than a perk. I don't even mind watching him make internal adjustments, it's pretty neat, actually. I just ... really can't fucking stand the texture of his wires. I can tolerate it to help him make repairs or whatever he might need, but it's the most unsexy thing in the world and neither one of us are comfortable with me feeling like that while we're trying to fuck. So we do it the human way, and if he wants something else, he's free to get it."

She looked a bit chagrined at his outburst, shoulders sagging just a little. "Fine. And you've agreed to help, so, I guess you're not an asshole."

Hank had to smile at her mulish tone. She reminded him, in a roundabout way, of himself; stubborn, battered, angry at the world and everything in it, but deep down, still caring. He stepped around the table removing the tiny capsule Connor had taped to the fridge with a helpful 'FOR NORTH!' sticky note, complete with arrow. "He left this for you .I'm assuming you know what to do?" He really hoped so because he didn't. He dropped the pill into her hand.

"What is it?" She eyed it skeptically.

"Short answer - taste buds. Speaking as someone who had to eat the results, that 'flavor profile update' that went out a few months ago isn't worth the paper it's printed on."

"It wasn't printed."

"My point exactly."

After another moment's consideration North popped the capsule into her mouth, chewed once, then swallowed. Then she grimaced and worked her mouth like she had shit flavored peanut butter in it. The same thing had happened when Kara got her copy. Nines too, no matter how stoic he'd been. Hank took mercy and got her a glass of water. "It'll settle down in a minute, this'll help," he offered gently, handing her the glass and nodding towards the sink.

She took a mouthful and swished, spitting into the sink. Repeating it for the entire glass, and a second one, she finally stopped. 

According to Connor they were tasting, in a matter of moments, every single flavor he'd compiled for his profile. He hadn't worked out why it happened yet, which was one reason the update was on an ‘as needed’ basis only at this point.

While she was swishing, Hank was getting ready to make it worth her while. When she turned back to face him, he handed her a dessert bowl with a small scoop of chocolate ice cream. "Kara recommended it for what she called post blech."

"You could have warned me." North sounded absolutely venomous as she took the chocolate.

"Kara and Nines both advised that I not do so. Kara said if she knew what was gonna happen, she would have declined and kept working from very carefully calibrated recipes. She said later that it was worth it though."

Her first mouthful of ice cream was almost defiant, then he watched as the flavor hit. "Oh my god," she swallowed and took another small spoonful. "Oh my god!"

Hank had to laugh at the blissful look on her face. Kara had been far more subdued, and Nines had merely grunted, but North was relishing it. It was a delight to watch and Hank just leaned back against the fridge and watched her all but lick the goddamn bowl.

"Worth it?" He asked.

"Mm-hmm. Oh my god. How are humans not all fat?" 

Hank snorted. "Because most things don't taste that good, and most of us can't eat too much of the same thing before we get sick of it. Now," he rubbed his hands together, "since you shopped, I'm assuming you have at least something in mind for your sweetie pie?" Knowing what he did of her history, he assumed North's human was a woman but didn't want to say as much.

North wrinkled her nose at his saccharine 'sweetie pie.' "Brenda likes pasta. When we've gone out, she's always ordered pasta. Spaghetti, macaroni, linguini."

"Girl after my own heart." Hank chuckled, giving his own gut a pat. Yeah, it was a beer belly now, but before that, he'd had a pasta-and-cheeseburger belly. "Mind if I have a look see?" 

At her nod, Hank began to unload the bags. Some of it he understood - garlic, milk, butter, a few kinds of cheese - but it wasn't until halfway through the second bag that he realized at least some of what she wanted to do. "I don't know how to make actual pasta, I get the dried stuff."

North looked uncertain, chewing her lip. "Bren says all the best pasta is hand made."

"The absolute best pasta  _ is _ . But  _ the best _ hand made pasta is made by people who've been doing it for twenty years." He decided on macaroni and cheese, because he knew a few ways and had enough for it, and piled the ingredients as he continued. "Something about cooking, North; The best food, the absolute  **best** meal you can serve someone, is something you make yourself, and mean it. It doesn't have to be fancy, or from scratch. Know what I ask Connor to cook the most?"

"I have no idea."

"It's a toss up between grilled cheese, or scrambled eggs. Connor can do some really complicated stuff now and it's all delicious. But scrambled eggs and grilled cheese were the first two things he learned to make. He's not like Simon, or Markus, or Kara. He didn't come preloaded with a thousand and one recipes and a general knowledge of cooking. So he had to start simple, especially since he didn't have any real capacity for flavor. The only reason he even learned to cook at all was for me, because he wanted me to eat better. His grilled cheese was over salted and the eggs were either dry or runny for the first few weeks. But he was making them for me, because he cared." Hank felt himself getting a little teary as he thought about those early days, filled with equal measures of joy and uncertainty while they figured everything out; Hank backing off to give Connor space to grow, and Connor just growing in his direction.

"So, uhm, the dried stuff is fine then, I guess." North said quietly. Turning away, apparently to give him space, she re-packed all of the things she'd gotten to make actual pasta, leaving only potential sauce ingredients.

"Okay!" Hank rubbed his hands together once he'd regained his composure. “I'm assuming you're good to go for a while? Connor might not be back till dawn so we've got all night. Because I can actually get three dishes out of all of this plus what I've got. Well, two of them are macaroni and cheese, but very different recipes."

"You could simply give me the recipes. Now that I can taste ..."

"There's more to cooking than recipes." Hank broke open one of the garlic bulbs and held up a clove. “How many for tomato sauce? Go ahead, look it up, I'll wait."

"Anywhere between one clove and two heads. Some only give measurements in powdered form, even if the rest of the recipe is identical." North nodded in slow understanding. "How do I know which is correct?"

"I could say you have to feel it in your pump, but I suspect you'd hit me," he said it with a smile.

North twisted her face but it wasn't a scowl. It looked like she was trying to fight a smile. "Fine. We'll do it your way."

Hank snagged a small wide mouthed jar from the counter. It had been painted an earthy green. "Your spittoon, my lady," he offered it with a flourish and this time North smiled faintly. "Connor has one. He can't hold that much food, so when he's doing a lot of cooking and tasting, he has to empty out."

"My, uhm, I was designed to hold several tablespoons at once, but the thought is appreciated." She took it and set it on the table.

"First order of business; pots." He took her through the various kinds, starting with the smallest, mostly for turning giblets into gravy, up through the one and two quart ones, and then the stock pots.

Choosing a medium stock pot, he set it on the counter. Then he took her through a basic tomato sauce.

"You can do the  _ whole _ thing from scratch, but since we don't have ten hours, we're using cans." He opened several of stewed and diced tomatoes, having her taste a little of each one before he poured it into the stock pot on the stove. Then the tomato paste. Then an array of spices. "Herbs are a lot like pasta - fresh is always better ultimately, but ninety nine percent of the time dried will do just as well."

Hank was unsurprised that North was very comfortable handling a knife, though he did have to correct the way she held it. "Hold it like this, you cut an onion. Hold it like that, you cut like, eight yakuza in four seconds." He paraphrased an old show, and it made her smile so it was all good.

All the while, Hank was careful not to touch her, as he always was. However, she felt no such qualms about touching him. It wasn't in a teasing or sexual way, just a casual one. At one point, she was getting something out of the fridge and simply hip checked him out of the way. A few times their hands bumped reaching for the spoon to stir the tomato sauce. A hand to his back as she moved behind him. It was nice. Not the touching as such, but that she seemed to be relaxing around him.

"So tell me about Brenda," he asked once the tomato sauce was simmering. He was setting the frying pan up to soak while she was taking a sip of his whiskey.  _ Un _ asked, of course, which just made him smile. "How'd you two meet?"

That really got her animated, her whole face lighting up. They had originally met shortly after the revolution. North had been wandering the streets at night, taking in the changed world. No more androids working at all hours because they could. Couples with LED's walking hand in hand, smiling and laughing. "I mean, I saw couples in Jericho," she continued as Hank dried his hands. "But that was in Jericho. It was safe there."

"I understand. Being queer used to be like that. Still is in some places. Safe spaces are good. Not needing them is better."

"Yeah." She met his gaze and finished his whiskey with a smirk and he just laughed. "So I'm walking, it's close to Christmas - this is last year. She sees me, and she comes bustling over to me, all concerned. Says, I shouldn't be out in the cold dressed like that!" She gestured to the outfit she wore, similar to what she always had on; form hugging pants, snug top with some drapage around the hips, asymmetrical. Not very warm looking, though he'd noticed she'd had a coat on when she arrived.

Hank didn't miss the wistful smile on her face as she talked. He poured himself another glass of whiskey and took a sip, gesturing for her to continue.

"At first I thought she was ... maybe a little addled, couldn't see well," She tapped her LED. "But she said, “no, I know you guys still get cold, especially now!' And she wasn't wrong. I was just ignoring it. She has the warmest hands," she whispered, lost in thought for a moment. "She dragged me to her place, which was just down the block. Stuffed me into this  _ hideous _ green coat, but she said it was all she had in my size. I was a little annoyed, honestly. It really was ugly as sin." She stepped closer, body brushing against his as she projected an image on her hand.

"Ouch. Yeah, that's ... I'd be annoyed, too." It was a monstrosity in lime green. One of those puffy sleeved ones that came back into style five or so years ago.

"She sent me off, told me if I insisted, I could bring it back when I didn't need it anymore, but that it was a gift. I thought she was just trying to get rid of it. Foist it off on some poor down on her luck android. I even worried, briefly, that she was trying to set me up." She looked suitably guilty at that thought. "It happens. Someone's nice to an android, gives them something, then turns around and claims it was stolen."

"Yeah. We've run into a few of those," Hank said darkly. "Believe me, North, I understand why so many of you hate us, I do."

"Not all of you," she said, arms crossed almost defensively, looking away. Then she huffed a breath and continued, "I didn't see her again until spring. When it got warmer and I didn't need the coat anymore. Not that I  _ wore _ it, but I didn't need it anymore, and I kept thinking about her. I talked with others, over the months, and she'd helped a few of us. Real help. She'd never owned one of us that we ever knew, but she kept thirium handy. So she checked out as a genuinely good human."

As North talked, Hank took her through assembling baked macaroni and cheese, the simplest of the three things he had to show her. 

"I thought you two only just started ... canoodling?"

"Canoodling? Sweetiepie? Why does Connor put up with your vocabulary?"

Hank flicked some shredded cheese at her and she laughed. "Connor fucking loves my vocabulary."

"Gotta be some reason he stays," she said, giving him a playful hip check. "Anyway. When I gave her the jacket back, we got talking. Not even about anything specific, just ... talking. Between her job and my work with Markus and Jericho, we didn't get to see each other more than once every four or five weeks. It wasn't until about a month or two ago that we actually saw each other twice in the same calendar month. That's when it ... got to be more."

With the baked macaroni and cheese in the oven, they began a roux to start on stove top mac and cheese.

"Is she cute?"

"She's beautiful." North projected an image of a pleasantly plump young woman with bright eyes and a long braid over one shoulder.

Hank personally found her on the plain side, though not at all unattractive. Still, he knew what love did. "She is," he agreed.

The rest of the evening passed much the same. Hank talked her through the steps of a roux, then turning it into a sauce, this time each making their own. When his own went a little sideways, he was able to teach her how to fix it. "Not that it's gonna happen for you, but it's still nice to know," he chuckled.

They eventually found their way to the couch, the kitchen shut down, food finished and packed away. North's spittoon, which she  _ had _ ended up needing, was washed and in a bag along with her unused groceries and half the tomato sauce. "Freeze it, in case your girl stops by and you wanna make her something quick." She had declined the macaroni and cheese.

Hank was sipping his whiskey while he relayed one of his old family recipes to her now that he felt she had a good handle on food. She was sipping a glass of wine, or at least occasionally touching her lips to it.

They were still talking around two in the morning when Connor came home. His shirt silk hung off one shoulder, his mesh shirt was riding halfway up, exposing his flat tummy. The top button of his pants was undone and his collar was resting lower on his neck than it had been earlier. Connor's still immaculate eyeliner framed eyes that occasionally flickered with static like an old TV set.

"I think that's my cue to leave," North said with a laugh. She set the wine glass down and gave Hank's shoulder a squeeze. "Thanks. I'll let you know how it goes." She snagged her bag, gave Connor a pat on his shoulder and slipped out, closing the door while Connor all but oozed across the floor.

"Someone had a very good night," Hank purred as Connor poured himself into his lap, all soft and boneless and needy cat motions. This was another reason he didn't mind Connor getting his wires tweaked. It got him kind of high. Not incapacitated - his judgement wasn't impaired - he was just extremely tactile, really aggressively horny, and he could fuck like a demon even more than usual.

"Mmmhmm." Connor's face nuzzled against Hank's neck and he let his head fall back to give Connor room as he licked and nipped. "Want you." He ground down, cock hard in his sinfully tight jeans and Hank moaned. His hands tugged at Hank's clothes, undoing his buttons with a deftness that was fucking indecent for someone as debauched looking as him. Hank knew he wouldn't be getting much more in the way of speech out of him. When Connor was like this he didn't  _ talk  _ much, he just  _ did _ .

"Want you too, baby." Hank nudged his silk shirt off of Connor's other shoulder and he stood, dropping his arms so it could flutter to the floor. 

Connor took Hank's hands and pulled him to his feet, walking backwards as he took him into the bedroom. Pushing him against the closed door, he kissed Hank hungrily, slender fingers tight in his hair, pulling it in a way that went straight to Hank's dick. "Gonna fuck you," Connor promised with a growl. The swearing, and the fact that Connor was speaking at all also went straight to Hank's dick, which was already throbbing painfully. 

Working with speed that left Hank breathless, Connor managed to get all of Hank's clothes off in record time, then pushed him onto the bed. Connor was still clothed except for his shirt, and fuck if Hank didn't want him to stay that way. He used to jerk himself raw thinking about getting fucked by men looking exactly like that, right down to the glittery skin. All he was missing was a lip ring.

If Hank wanted to roll over, he knew he had to act fast, but he didn't. He wanted to watch Connor drill into him this time. As Connor approached the bed, hips swaying, he finished undoing his pants. Highlighted against his pale skin his artfully chipped black nail polish stood out even more.

Connor freed his cock, long and thick, giving it a few strokes. By the time he crawled onto the bed and between Hank's legs, Hank had managed to get the plug out, letting it thump onto the floor. He'd worn it all evening, keeping himself stretched in the hopes of just this turn of events. Connor didn't disappoint. Slender hands caught furry thighs and pushed his legs up and apart.

Hank recalled, dimly, a time when this would have sent thrown his back out. But a year of getting pounded into the mattress by the energizer fucking bunny had limbered him up considerably. Connor just about folded him in half as he leaned forward, capturing Hank's mouth in a demanding kiss.

Hank gripped Connor's sides and tried to rock up. "Come on, baby, all ready for you," he promised. The plug had kept him open enough to not need stretching, and Connor's cock was a fancy self lubricating type, which meant when he pushed in he glided home with a single smooth motion that had both of them moaning.

Connor didn't wait. He withdrew and pushed in again, soon setting a deep pace that left Hank unable to do anything but moan. Connor let go of one leg and reached up, sliding his hand to the back of Hank's head. Then he curled his fingers into a fist, grabbing long strands of hair and yanking, forcing Hank's head back to expose his neck further.

The pressure to his hair, his ass getting plowed, Connor's lips and teeth on his throat, Hank almost came just from that. He gripped at Connor's sides then his shoulders, panting as he rocked up. "Fuck, baby! God! Already gonna fucking come, Con. Just-just gotta-" He tried to shift his hips but Connor gave an aggressive shove that fucked the air out of Hank's lungs. Only then did he adjust his own hips, changing the angle and rubbing himself against Hank's prostate.

Hank cried out, spilling over his own belly as Connor kept thrusting. When he felt Connor continue, pounding deep and steady, he almost sobbed. The pleasure flirted with painful overstimulation, but Hank loved this, skating the edge of too much and Connor knew his limits exactly. He knew when to let go of Hank's hair. When to replace hard bites at his throat with soft kisses at his mouth. How to narrow Hank's world to that thick cock fucking relentlessly into him like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"Again," Connor half growled against Hank's lips as he adjusted his angle minutely, increasing the stimulation to Hank's prostate.

"Fuck! Fuck! Con, baby, not sure I can, fuck." Hank was struggling to breathe enough to speak but he managed it. "I'll try. Fuck! Keep this up and I'll fucking try." A human wouldn't be able to fuck him long enough and Hank knew he'd be absolutely  _ raw _ no matter how much slick Connor oozed out for him. 

It would be worth it, though. For Connor, it would be worth fucking anything.

"Again," Connor repeated smugly. The satisfaction in his tone had Hank gasp out a laugh and he managed to draw enough strength to lift a hand to Connor’s head and pull him in for a breathy kiss.

Hank just rode the wave of Connor's powerful thrusts, driving into him over, and over, and over. Eventually his cock began to thicken again and Connor rubbed his belly against it with a low purr, static-filled, brown eyes drilling into blue as he stepped up his attentions. The headboard banged against the wall with the force of Connor's thrusts and only his firm hold on Hank kept his head from being similarly abused.

When he came again, it was just as intense, but with less tangible result. Connor's hips slowed, carefully, easing back the motions rather than cutting off abruptly. He timed it well, the final withdrawal teetered on the edge of too much and Hank let out a ragged gasp.

Empty but incredibly sated, Hank just lay there in bliss for a few moments. Connor eased his legs down, giving each thigh a firm stroke before he straddled Hank's belly. 

Connor bent, eyes still slightly flickery, but less to than when he got home. He was draped over Hank and kissed him slowly.

Hank purred and wrapped his arms around Connor, savoring his coolness. Connor's body acted like a heat sink, drawing away Hank's excess, keeping him from getting uncomfortably overheated after so much exertion. "Come on, baby," Hank purred, his hands sweeping down Connor's back, skimming over his ass before squeezing it gently.

Connor mewled and began to rock. Like earlier, he nuzzled almost kittenlike against Hank, his face rubbing against his cheek and neck as he rutted gently against Hank's soft belly.

Hank almost loved this part the best. Connor all soft, having seen to Hank, finally taking his own pleasure. He nuzzled and rutted gently and Hank stroked his back, enjoying the soft, cool muscles under his hands and the way Connor arched up into them. "Feel so good, Con, know just how to fuck me, now it's your turn."

Connor always said he liked hearing Hank when he was like this, found it grounding even when he didn't talk himself. "I've got you."

Connor's motions grew more restless, hips stuttering and finally he opened his mouth, but the only sound was a soft pop, like a light bulb going out. It was accompanied by a flood of thick moisture on Hank's belly as Connor came.

"There we go," he purred, soothing Connor as he lay motionless, going into soft reboot, skin flickering off for the duration. "That was so good, baby."

When Connor came back to himself, skin returning, his eyes were a steady brown and his smile was sweet and a little goofy. "I love you," he whispered and kissed Hank slow and tenderly. A side effect of the reboot was that Connor's features had returned to normal; eyeliner, glitter, hair color all gone. The nail polish remained in place since he'd actually painted it on.

"I love you too, Connor. Love you so fucking much." He wrapped his arms around Connor, holding him tight as he claimed his mouth again, glad to have 'his' Connor back. 

They didn't know why, but Connor was the only one who got high off of having his wires tweaked. Connor had made several discreet queries and not even Nines, virtually identical, got high from wire play. Letting him fuck himself into overload wasn't the only way to bring him out of that state, but it was by far the most enjoyable. 

"Time to clean up my mess." Connor smiled, nipping Hank's lip before shimmying off him. Hank gave a languid stretch as Connor stripped, then ducked into the bathroom.

When he returned, he wiped Hank's belly, then gave it a firm squeeze and a jiggle, making Hank laugh. Then he eased Hank's leg up and carefully applied cream to the abused skin in and around his ass, helping to mitigate the pain that was gonna hit once the afterglow finished wearing off.

Only once he was done, including gathering up the discarded laundry, did Connor finally crawl in beside a nearly asleep Hank, who bundled him close and finally did fall asleep, Connor's name on his lips.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, this was so much fun to write!


End file.
